...when it's gone past midnight,
the other side of twelve,
unlucky thirteen looms large.
A glance backward,
the rear view, an unbroken path.
A single tire mark into the vanishing point.
Was something lost, in that moment past the tipping hour?
(...more than a decade means you rend things wrong)
Niceties are impregnated with imaginative intent.
Step off from imagination,
the world is not in there...
but in the chosen subjective reality between.
Let go of nothing.
Let go...
)nothingness can't be held(
Time folds in on itself,
across the chasm,
You are there.
Dawn comes,
morning shatters the horizon with light,
illuminating that unbroken line.
liberosis
n. the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.
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